


Why the Hatter's Mad

by Waruitenshi



Series: Alis' Adventures in Arkhamland [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Gen, Hypnotism, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, My AU Jervis Origin Story, NO rape, No Incest, Pansexual Character, Plot Twists, Pre-Slash, Prequel, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 13:08:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11059626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waruitenshi/pseuds/Waruitenshi
Summary: "But then they took her from me. Poor, sweet Alice. Lost and alone! I HAD to find her. Had to bring her home! And so I did! It was quite the journey, let me tell you...But she's here again. Safe. With me!" In which we get to see what makes Jervis Tetch tick. Otherwise known as my attempt at giving Jervis a backstory.Prequel to “Alis’ Evidence”.





	1. Shaking

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this story is inspired by the lyrics to the song “Looking Glass” by Hypnogaja. X3 This is the prequel to my story/fic “Alis’ Evidence”. Also I think if Jervis Tetch had to be a type of sexuality he'd be Pansexual because it just fits if you've seen the version of him in the "Batman: Arkham Series" video games, and pretty much every version of him I've seen really, but this is my opinion so yay me! XD Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I only own my own OC's. I don't own any artwork, I just use certain characters who resemble an OC I create and fiddle with pictures in Paint to make them match my OC's better. Kudos and hugs for the original artists. X3
> 
> In this AU (Alternate Universe), the concept of soul mates exists, where everyone is supposed to have someone with whom they are destined/fated to be with for the rest of their lives and in every life afterwards and no matter what you do, you two will be inexplicably drawn to one another. Everyone is born with a soul mark, BUT it only appears once you turn 18 years old. The soul mark is what your soul mates pet name for you and will be written in their handwriting over their heart. When your soul mate sees it, they will be able to know it’s theirs and the mystic bond between you will strengthen and all that fun stuff. But during that time, you may acquire traits, habits, or even skills your soul mate has. Yay! For example: If one has a penchant for rhyming when angry or irritated, you might find yourself rhyming when you are upset or feeling upset for no reason and rhyming. If you hum a song they might hum a song. It all varies on the strength of the bond you have, which becomes even greater once you finally meet and reveal your marks to one another. TA DA! Hope this explains stuff. If not, please enjoy the ride anyway!

__ _" **No, no, no, it can't be Alice. Alice has nice yellow hair and...(starts crying) and isn't covered in blood." ~Arkham Series Mad Hatter.** _

* * *

 

Oh, how had he ended up in such a mess? In such a dismal state of misery and distress? In a cage called Arkham that was more akin to a catacomb and certainly not a place he’d ever call home. The woman he had only wanted to keep and love, sent so cruelly to Heaven above… Well.. Jervis supposed the best place to start, was the beginning…

Yes, he knew that tearful, poisonous mess he’d learned to call “Alice” wasn’t his dear sister. He had in the beginning wished she was, certainly, but was painfully aware of the truth despite his madness.

Knew that the real Alice had died long ago in that terrible accident just as his parents had. Came to understand that he didn’t need a sister. Jervis needed a soul mate like one needed air to breath. Someone who could learn to love him and whom he would be so very happy to love in return.

But instead, all he had now was undoubtedly a concussion, a migraine, a few lacerations, and a broken heart. The worst wound of all to be sure, and one that the usually psychotically optimistic Jervis Tetch was not sure could be mended.

That his whole life had pretty much gone to hell within the span of a few seconds. But… Jervis just wished he knew what to do. Why had he been allowed to survive while they had been taken?

There was nothing “special” about him, he didn’t think. Even if the doctors and nurses and his uncle had repeatedly told him how lucky he was to be alive, that it was a miracle he survived the crash and injuries incurred, how Jervis was healing much faster than they’d hoped (or seen really). But… he didn’t feel _lucky_ or _special_. He felt like the powers that be had simply made a mistake. Like he was a walking error.

Was there anything you could do when you’d lost everything and everyone you’d ever loved? The only people who, it seemed, would be the only ones to ever care that you even existed? Noticed if you weren’t around…? Where did one go from there?

No mother, no father, no soul mark or prospect of ever having someone to love him ever again, and certainly no dear little sister who had always been by his side, always been there to be silly with her songs and her rhymes to try and cheer him up; her bright, curious little soul and smiles that could light up the night.

Jervis had thought he had lost all hope and reason for living. And when he did, he began trying to end it all. It had, at first started with a few small cuts here and there, but they only helped alleviate his suffering for so long.

And then… he began to wonder… would it better to simply end it all? It wasn’t like there was anyone to miss him. Not even a soul mate who would mourn him from somewhere in the world.

He had been very afraid of course. Death was something even the bravest feared. Jervis could remember how terribly his fingers had shaken. How he’d ended up dropping the razor blade several times, only to throw it at the wall and sink down onto the floor of his bedroom to curl up and sob bitterly.

Oh, how he was such a coward. Couldn’t even put himself out of his own misery! What use was there for such a useless insect as he? His thin form only grew thinner as he’d lost the desire to eat. Not as if he’d really eaten much to begin with after… well… after Alice…

All his color and cheerfulness had gone and there were dark circles under his eyes. He felt so very black and white, so cold and dull and empty; like a paper doll with no one to play with.

His uncle Reginald had noticed, quite luckily he remembered the doctor saying when Jervis had been taken to the hospital after found unconscious in his room by the maid whom he’d ask to keep an eye on his nephew while he was at work.

Then next thing he knew, he was in therapy in some fancy psychiatric hospital. A luxurious Looney bin he’d decided, that he cared not for in the slightest. At least at home he had his pictures of his family, things to remind him of why he’d wanted to stay alive and kept that will to survive and healthy fear of death alive.

But here? In this hellhole of whiny rich brats who thought not getting the new phone or pair of shoes they wanted was cause enough to warrant thousands of dollars in therapy bills, he found his spirit being further crushed.

Just withering away to an empty husk, like a plant without the warm rays of the sun. No point to continue… right? He’d managed to get hold of a plastic fork at dinner one night and had tried sharpening it into a sort of shiv.

But they found him trying to use it to slit his wrists, as not being a place that had access on the many methods of suicide, he went with the one he remembered seeing on television somewhere.

All he’d really managed was to make a bloody mess, but sadly not enough to get the job done. They’d put him under stricter supervision after that and even medication. But all it did was make him itch and worsen the nightmares because it made him sleep, so he was unable to wake up from them.

Young Jervis and little Alice sitting in the backseat singing some childish songs while mom and dad chatted happily and occasionally laughed at their children, when WHAM! A semi-truck had come out of nowhere; its driver having fallen asleep at the wheel and lost control.

It plowed into their small four door vehicle as if it were made of paper; slamming into another vehicle and then rolling like some child’s plaything. Their father had been killed instantly. Mother came next when their car slammed into another.

Jervis had been knocked unconscious, but woke up in time to see himself hanging upside down. He managed to unbuckle and right himself; hissing as the broken glass cut through the material of his pants and into his skin.

Glancing to his side where his sister sat, he tried to wake her. Only… he _couldn’t_ … “Alice, wake up. Dear sister… you must wake up!” He carefully reached out and shook her shoulder, but she just hung there like a limp doll.

There was a cut on her forehead where blood was trickling down into her hair as it hung in long, light ash brown locks; looking like a golden tinted curtain of wavy sunshine on any other day, but with the dirt and blood from the wreck, it… looked so dark and dull…

Her little light blue dress, black Mary Jane shoes and sleeping face were spattered with dirt and bits of glass and blood; giving her the resemblance of a once pristine doll someone had thrown out into the street to be mistreated.

“Please, Alice! Wake up! You must! You must!!!” His disorientation from the crash began to blossom into full blown panic when she wouldn’t wake up, when he saw how pale her usually warm, fair face usually was. How it looked so drained of… well… spirit. Tears began to fall down his blood and debris smeared face as he continued to try waking her to no avail.

He didn’t even notice the sound of sirens and people shouting. Never knew that help had arrived (too late of course), until he felt strong arms trying to pull him out of the vehicle through the door that had been torn off when it hit the other car and rolled.

Like a wild animal he had started to thrash and claw and bite, and fight with all his might; trying to get the policeman off of him and get back to his little sister. He couldn’t leave her there all alone in such a horrible, filthy nightmare!

With no big brother to keep her company, to tell her everything was okay when she woke up. And she would wake up. He was sure of it! They just needed to leave him the hell alone so he could rouse the silly sleepyhead.

 _‘Oh Alice was always such a heavy sleeper, poor girl.’_ He’d mused; his fragile child’s psyche starting to fracture. After all, dear Alice was only between seven and eight, and Jervis just three years older.

But then came a cold, sharp needle in his neck thanks to an EMT who came to the cops rescue. The cop had been tempted to taser the kid, but apparently that would’ve done more damage the EMT had told him; pfft! Like Jervis would’ve cared.

All he wanted was to be back home with his family, not in this horrible hospital that reeked of lemon scented death and the foul remnants of bodily fluids that it was trying to cover up.

He wanted to be home! They were probably waiting for him, wondering where he was. Surely his mother was worried sick by now, he’d thought. Father probably trying and failing to console his crying baby sister who no doubt thought Jervis must have abandoned her like that time he’d started school.

Jervis fretted and jerked in one of his drug induced slumbers, as the hospital staff disapproved of the way he kept fighting them at every turn as he insisted and insisted they let him go home to see his family.

He’d heard them whisper about him and his family. Their words ranging from pity to irritation. “Oh, poor kid. Doesn’t seem to get that they’re dead.”

“Do you think he’s nuts?”

“Shit! Didn’t we just put him under? Well damnit, up the dosage! He’s disturbing the other patients!”

“Shouldn’t he be in the _other_ kind of hospital?”

“God I wish he’d stop fucking screaming!”

“OW! What the-he bit me!”

Yep. Jervis fought tooth and nail, and plastic spoon if he had it, to try and get back home, as his mind was busy trying to block out the trauma and assure him that no, his loved ones weren’t dead. They must’ve just been knocked out and taken to another hospital.

That when he got home, they’d be waiting for him or maybe he could go visit them and bring them presents and do some of his tricks to make them feel better. Such a sweet, frail and perilous thing, the mind of a child…

And even after all the therapy, the medications they’d made him try, and all of their so-called “help”, all it did was wrench him from his hope of being reunited with his family; as he sadly had been made to see that they were truly and very much dead when his uncle had him attend their funeral.

Although it had been one of the saddest days of his life, all little Jervis could remember thinking about was how so very small his dear sisters coffin had been, as they lowered her into the ground.

After his, well you might as well call it what it was, incarceration at that _vile_ mental “rehabilitation” facility for a couple of years, the only good that had come of it was that ironically he did find something worthwhile.

It was a fellow patient. She was rather whiny like the others, but at least her complaints were more valid than the others. Her name was Tiffany and her father liked to get drunk and hit her mother and the poor girl just sobbed over how she didn’t think there was anything she could do to help.

Jervis felt bad for her, certainly, but to him the answer seemed simple enough. Why didn’t she just kill him or make him stop? If she worked wonders with the mind like Jervis could, it wouldn’t be so difficult a thing.

But Tiffany said she didn’t know how to and asked if Jervis could help make him stop, because she didn’t want to hurt him. Oh, such a waste, he’d sighed inwardly. And so, when her parents came to visit, Jervis had been with her; claiming he was there for support of course. Clever boy that he was.

Thankfully since he had stopped trying to off himself, they had given Jervis back his fathers pocket watch. Jervis claimed it helped soothe him, and in a way it did. He enjoyed feeling the cool silvery metal in his hand and hearing the soft lulling tick, tock, tick, tocking that it sang.

His father had been a psychiatrist himself who had specialized in hypnotherapy. The mind had always fascinated Jervis, and so he’d fallen in love with the very idea of hypnotism.

He’d even taken to it and surpassed his father by age ten, and loved performing all sorts of tricks for his family. So when it came to the foolish, cruel mind of the girls father, Jervis had no trouble at all putting the man under his hypnotic spell.

Jervis told the man he was never to harm his daughter and child again and that he was to take her and Jervis home. The wily auburnet had known his uncle wasn’t coming to get him, and was probably working hard to convince the courts that he should be in charge of the money and estate his family had left him, so he needed a way out.

Tiffany had objected to the request when Jervis had asked to go with her as repayment for his assistance, and so, after he had promised to help her, he’d hypnotized her as well. Which was why she now sat quietly like a good girl while he gave her mother the same treatment.

They snuck him out and now he was traveling home, his home, with Tiffany and her parents. It had been nice to be out of that pointless place. Oh how surprised Uncle Reginald had been! The look on his face! It had been so… so… _displeased_.

Jervis decided to keep him around to do his bidding until he was of age to collect his inheritance. And so his uncle had become something of a servant for the house, while Tiffany and her family became like the dolls within it. Jervis thought the idea to play “family” was a rather pleasant distraction from his problems and pain.

And so he had the husband and wife dress themselves in some of his parents clothes, and had bought pretty little dresses and clothes like his sister loved to wear in Tiffany’s size and dressed her up in them.

He brushed the ash brown wig of long hair he made her wear, as hers was such an ugly flat mess of black. It made Jervis’ nose crinkle and for him to make a repulsed face at the color. No, _no_ , all _wrong_! Alice has long, beautiful bouncy waves of ash brown that shone the prettiest color of sunshine in most lighting.

Jervis remembered how he would help his sister brush and style her hair in different ways when they played dress up or their mother was too busy to help the poor child. Which was more often than not, since both of their parents worked and Jervis and Alice were usually stuck in the house all alone with an aging nanny who wasn’t meant for being attentive and a good playmate, so much as she was for cleaning and cooking and making sure neither child killed themselves.

So big brother had to step in and take charge and play the part of older brother, father and even mother; playing with her, helping her with her homework, reading her stories and entertaining her in all sorts of ways, chiding her for doing something that could get her hurt or had.

Making sure she went to bed, took her bath and not just made a big mess of the bubble bath, that she ate her meals “Vegetables _too_ , Sister dear. Mother would agree.” Checking her room for monsters and standing guard when she was still too scared, only to fall asleep in a chair or on the foot of her bed to find her little foot poking at his cheek in the morning.

Having had to learn how to braid and style her hair, to work the ribbons and bows and get the tangles out of her tresses without hurting her too badly or at all. He did all these things and more.

His world essentially revolved around his sister for almost a solid eight years. When he had tried to attend school after being tutored at home and wanting to maybe go and make friends, the poor girl had become so distraught that she had locked herself in her room and screamed and cried until a car had been sent to pick him up.

His nanny had told him his sister refused to come out until her brother was home. Poor little Alice had hated how their parents were gone all the time and thought Jervis was going to end up abandoning her too.

Even if it meant he had to sacrifice his chances at a social life outside his sister, it was too heart wrenching a thought to let Alice suffer for his own selfishness, and chose to remain home schooled with her.

He resumed his studies at home of course, and kept his “family” hidden during that time in one of the many rooms of the modest mansion. It was certainly no Wayne manor of course, but it had its charm.

Jervis found that he really didn’t like having the parents around, as he was not used to it. And while he had ordered them to play the part of how he remembers his parents being, he disliked them telling him what to do or scolding him if he did wrong.

He was the one in charge, so why did he need them? Not exactly like he’d needed them much before, and certainly not now that he had outgrown them. Oh but what to do with them? Hmm…

The odd auburnet ordered them to dress back into their old clothes, drive to the next city over, get cinderblocks and tie them around their waists, and find a nice secluded spot by a lake to drown themselves. He kept an eye on the news after that to see if anything turned up. But no.

Life with his new “Alice” had gotten rather… unpleasant after that. The girl had grown upset about their “parents” not being around and kept asking where they were. He’d tell her sweetly not to worry and that all she needed was her big brother.

Now when he brushes her hair, she fidgets and it makes her wig slid out of place. It makes dressing her or sitting beside her to watch TV or read her a story irksome, and he had to continually tell her to sit still.

“Alice” continues to ask questions about their parents too, as he wanted her to speak and be curious like his sister had been, as a lifeless doll is such a boring thing. Which is all good and well, until he snaps and orders her to be quiet.

At the sight of tears trickling down her frightened face and the way she whimpered pitifully, he tuts softly and apologizes immediately for his harshness. At her side in a moment to hold her close and stroke her hair as he always would when his dear little sister was upset.

And all is well, except this “Alice” was actually older than Jervis had thought. She’d been so short and immature in personality, he assumed she was younger. But no. After about a year since he’d started the whole charade, he had been dressing her for the day, when he noticed the awful, _horrible_ defect.

The name “ _Tif_ ” was scrawled very simply in black across her chest; right over her heart. Jervis had been shocked at first, but the more he had to look at it, the more a deep, seething rage bubble up from a dark part of him Jervis hadn’t even known he possessed.

But… but that mark was so… _ugly_! It was a hideous reminder that this girl was _not_ Alice. Not his sister. An _imposter_. A Fake Alice that didn’t _deserve_ to play the role of his dear sibling!

* * *

  ** _~To be continued...~_ **


	2. Waking

_**"Oh. Don't mind Alice, poor dear. Her mind is all a flutter. And who can blame her, after all she's been through...But I'll have her right as rain soon enough. Don't you worry about that." ~Arkham Series Mad Hatter.** _

* * *

_‘Funny…’_ Jervis mused in state of dreamy disbelief as he stared down at the mess he had made. He would have thought killing someone was supposed to have a bigger impact on a person. A sort of revelation or epiphany sort of experience.

But all he felt was numb. That lonely, empty chill trying to claw its way back into his soul now that he no longer had the distraction of his “Alice” to take care of. No, now her imposter lay slumped over in her chair at the table.

The blood from the crimson laceration in her throat drip, drip, dripping into her cup of cold tea as the flow continued to slow and slow. The deep red overflowed the lovely white floral pattern china, seeped into the pristine white table cloth, dribbled and made patterns on her lacy cream colored dress, and pooled around her shiny black shoes.

He hummed thoughtfully; languidly twirling the three inch blade of the pocketknife he had taken to carrying since he left that dreadful facility. _‘Never knew when it might come in handy._ ’ Jervis had figured when he fetched it from the draw in her fathers study not long after he had returned.

The blade was stained the same dark shade of red; shining in the light like a fine wine, even if Jervis thought it was more of the cheap sort, like the kind that came in a box, as he considered the source.

After that, he had taken up the task of finding himself a new “Alice”, a better one. Perhaps one he wouldn’t have to put a wig on? That would be nice. It was so easily undone, no matter how well he tried to secure the silly thing.

But with each one Jervis had tried, they all ended up disappointing him. One had dark brown hair he thought might work, as she was the right age. But she had such a horribly annoying voice; so high pitch and grating, like nails on a chalkboard combined with someone throwing cats into a blender he’d thought. So she had to go.

He picked them out by how closely they might resemble his sister if she were still alive and had reached the proper age of being just a few years younger than he was; the long wavy hair, the right sunny ash brown color, the bright green eyes and a soft, sweet voice with a face to match.

But he had to compromise of course. And he was certainly willing to try you see. It was simply that no matter he did, Jervis couldn’t bare to pick one that was too young, as he didn’t fancy himself one of those child violating monsters. Merely the thought made the bile rise up in his mouth and nausea to ruin whatever good mood he was in.

And so, once he had reached the age of eighteen and been devastated to find his soul mark had not appeared yet, he found himself growing steadily embittered whenever one of his “Alice’s” turned of age and theirs stood out so proudly against their skin.

Only for them to be end up unreadable as blade met flesh over and over and _over_ into the hearts of his unfortunate victims. Oh how he _hated_ that blasted mark! Always showing up without welcome or provocation to remind him of his own lost chance to be truly loved and love again and that his sisters substitutions were just that; substitutions.

Then, one day, after he had made sure his uncle had put all the affairs he needed him to in order, Jervis thought it fitting to imprison the man in the same cage he’d tried to abandon Jervis in.

He had been rolling the man down the corridor as Reginald sat comatose like a good puppet, when golden brown hair and big brown eyes caught his attention. It was a young woman, not much younger than himself with a dreamy expression on her face as she stared off into space.

She was sitting in her room on a bed, and Jervis found he just couldn’t take his eyes off of her. “Excuse me, but who is that young lady?” The awestruck auburnet had inquired, only to have to get the truth out of the man through the use of his enthralling skills.

He learned the young woman’s name was Alia Gonzalez and that the poor dear suffered from a mental disorder that caused her to experience very realistic hallucinations and other issues that essentially left her stuck in her own imaginary world, and that they had yet to find a medication that could bring her out of it for long.

Odd, judging by her small distant smile, it did not appear as though she were suffering. Hmm, perhaps she would make a more fitting “Alice”? A mind like hers would be easy enough to manipulate into having her believe she was his sister as he had done the others.

But there had always been a part of their original selves that remained, that would eventually surface and make things difficult. That would shatter the careful illusion Jervis had worked so hard to create.

However, when he heard that they thought her condition might be linked to her blood, Jervis found his interest pique further.

Upon further investigation, and some hypnotism, the doctor told him all about how if anyone got so much as a drop on them that they would end up becoming unstable and then patients themselves, but that they usually ended up getting shot by the guards due to their homicidal tendencies.

So… This young woman was special, like him? Jervis had never much cared for the word really. But had learned that he possessed a unique ability to see the true selves of people, the darkness they tried to hide, and that he was capable of coaxing it out. He wondered what sort of darkness this “Alice” was hiding…?

It was easy enough to put her under his spell and have the already hypnotized doctor sign Alia over into his custody. Under the fake name Roddy McDowall just to be safe, as he had taken to coming up with a few aliases just in case he required them.

Needless to say, but shall be said anyway, this particular “Alice” of his had been one of his best works yet! Her condition caused her to truly believe that she was Alice Tetch! And for about a year, that had been enough for Jervis.

“Alice” played the part perfectly and held no reservations or hesitations. She was so convincing that even Jervis began to believe that he really had his sister back. Well… if not for her eye color, complexion, and so many other miniscule aspects about her that didn’t exactly _fit_ …

But at the same time, it was the differences that began to appeal to him. He slowly stopped seeing her as a replacement for his dear sister and started to see her in a more romantic light.

Perhaps it was the simple fact that he was now over eighteen with his raging hormones, agonizing desire for a soul mate and utter loneliness that plagued him that having a sister figure just didn’t fill anymore.

Jervis came to find that he needed a different kind of woman in his life, and ended up falling crazy head over heels in love with Alia. However, even with all his skill, he could not draw her out of her new personality as “Alice Tetch”.

Somehow, perhaps with whatever mysterious psychosis her blood instilled, the “Alice” persona had become ingrained, and any attempts he made to remove or alter it would be for naught.

It wasn’t like he tried everything he could to make her Alia again. But the woman simply didn’t want to be anyone but Alice. Jervis tried to work with it. Tried to use his powers to change her sisterly love into a more romantic one.

He put thoughts, images and desires into her mind while he did his best to court her. This had such a startlingly negative reaction. “Alice” started accusing him of the most horrific acts. Claiming he had… he had… ra-oh he couldn’t even think it! It was so revolting!

Jervis always did his utmost to be a gentleman, and never once went beyond attempting to place the most chaste of kisses upon one of her delicate little hands or stroke her hair or hold her or at the most, write her name over her heart and pretend it was her soul mark and that they were meant to be together. And even then, he had to try very hard not to set her off into another of her hallucinatory fits.

The lovelorn hypnotist had even taken to putting her into a trance and ordering her to dress herself in her room as Jervis had grown too shy to do it for her after figuring out that he had fallen for his dear Alia.

And even then, he’d always made a point of doing his best not to look while helping his “Alice’s” get dressed as a good big brother should. Which was why it bothered him later when everyone in Gotham City believed the worst of him.

He’d hoped so very much he could make things work between them. And Jervis worked as hard as he could every day to show he loved her and get her to return it of her own volition.

Jervis very much despised the idea of having to be in love with a mindless doll. It would mean she didn’t truly love him and wouldn’t ever if he made her do anything of the romantic or Heaven forbid, intimate nature with him. He felt incredibly ill and angry at the thought and _refused_ to stoop so low.

The stubborn brunette just blatantly refused him at every turn however. Told him the love Jervis offered, that he wanted and so desperately needed was _sick_ and _wrong_. That he shouldn’t love his “sister” in that way.

Jervis tried to argue that he didn’t, that he loved her and that they were not actually related and it was just the effects of his thrall she’d fallen under that made her think so. But it only confused the already mentally unstable young woman, which Jervis tended to forget in the heat of their emotional arguments, until he had to place her in a trance again to get her to calm down.

On one occasion, she had slapped Jervis across the face when he attempted to take her hand in his and give it a kiss. Before he had even thought about it, he growled and went to grab her and shake some sense into the silly female, but she got frightened and ran.

She didn’t get too far, as she ended up tripping over the coffee table; knocking over the tray of tea with the teapot on it. The china shattered on the floor and Alia had cut her hand.

Jervis had forgotten about her blood being toxic in his panic and had rushed to her aid to take the wounded appendage in his hand and wrap it in his handkerchief. It wasn’t until he had placed her under a trance to make her easier to manage and attend to, that he noticed the blood on his hands.

His eyes widened and he rushed to the nearest sink to clean it off; his heartbeat racing as his mind whirled, wondering what would happen to him. For the next few days, and then weeks, he waited. But nothing happened.

At first he thought that perhaps the doctor had been an idiot. So he ensnared some hapless idiot from off the street and took them to experiment on. The results were quite astonishing really!

Jervis had never seen such a spectacular spectacle! The man became a raving maniac; the whites of his eyes blood red and his iris’ bright blue as spidery veins crept their way across his paling skin that now had a slight blue tint to it. My, what a change! It was as if the very darkness every human hid had been brought to the surface.

After a couple more “tests”, Tetch was oh so happy to conclude that not only was Alia far more special than he’d thought, but he was immune to her. In fact, he was probably the only one who was.

Maybe that meant they were meant to be? Wouldn’t it be something if they ended up being soul mates, Jervis couldn’t help wondering rather dreamily. The simple thought that they might be fated to be together fueled his attraction toward her and that oh so powerful blood of hers that he now controlled.

He became even more persistent in his efforts to win her heart and undo the damage he’d done by trying to make her into his sister. This obviously ended very poorly, as once it became apparent that she wasn’t his soul mate when her mark appeared and he had a bit of a fit about it, “Alice” had gone off and knocked him out.

Jervis had awoken to find she was missing, and relentlessly searched for her. He wanted to apologize to her. Even if she didn’t bear his soul mark, that didn’t mean they couldn’t be together.

Well, technically it did, as that sort of relationship eventually ended horribly for people who got dumped once the other persons soul mate came along… But Jervis was so desperate to have someone that he didn’t care. He could always take care of that part when they got to it.

But alas, we all know how that ended… With him internally sulking in Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane whilst wearing a fake smile to spite every jerk there. And hopefully deter any unnecessary attention from the other inmates in the dreary dayroom a few days later.

In particular, the creepy thin man with frizzy grey hair who kept eying Jervis like a coyote does when trying to figure out how to break into the coop and snatch itself a nice chicken.

The man would lick his lips every now and then, but at the same time looking rather unsure if he should make a move or not. And Jervis sincerely hoped it was due to rumor that some of the orderlies had spread that he was just as tainted and infectious as “Alice” had been.

The hypnotist was trying not to pay him any mind whatsoever in the hope he would stay away, but the fact that his face and sleeves had blood smeared and drying on them, did nothing to help. If anything, it was like a dinner bell to whatever crazed cannibal dare try for a sample.

But I dare say… that was a story all it’s own…

* * *

_**~To be continued in… “The Wright Alis”~** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this and are looking forward to the sequel I'm working on that will have plenty of slashy goodness! Also, if you somehow don't think the Hatter could be into guys (as well as girls), you should play the "Batman: Arkham Series" video games. In "Batman: Arkham Knight" there's a little story called "Down the Rabbit Hole" where Jervis has a slender, pretty guy held hostage whom he is trying to make into his "Alice" and then when you play the part of the game for Hatter's mission, he's trying to make Batman into his "Alice". XD And he says a lot of slashy stuff to him. So yeah, I don't think he cares what gender you are if you fit his image of "Alice". If you don't agree then I don't care. This is just my opinion and I write this stuff for fun. X3


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